<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Beware the beast, but enjoy the feast he offers by GucciRhymesWithDucky</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22412353">Beware the beast, but enjoy the feast he offers</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/GucciRhymesWithDucky/pseuds/GucciRhymesWithDucky'>GucciRhymesWithDucky</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Overwatch (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Forced to Watch, Non-Consensual Bondage, Non-Consensual Oral Sex, Other, Rape/Non-con - Freeform, Sex Toys, Talon Trash Party</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2019-06-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2019-06-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 03:22:55</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,416</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22412353</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/GucciRhymesWithDucky/pseuds/GucciRhymesWithDucky</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Sanest choice in this insane world.</p><p>(Or; Symmetra has a bad time.)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Beware the beast, but enjoy the feast he offers</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>For "100 words of trash parties," because we can always use more trash parties. Title is from "Beauty of the Beast" by Nightwish.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Satya chased the ice around her glass with her straw. In establishments like these water was all she cared to drink. Seated next to her, Sanjay sipped on gin and tonic; on the other side of the booth, the omnic, Maximilien, partook of nothing at all.</p><p>"It is always," Maximilien was saying, "a pleasure to do business with you, Mr. Korpal. And Ms. Vaswani—I have the highest confidence that your designs will be well-received." With stiff modesty, Satya lowered her eyes; in her heart stabbed the wounded pride that he might dare to express anything <em> but </em> confidence. "I must finalize the details of our arrangement with my contact in Oasis, naturally. But everything you have shown me tonight shows great promise for a future Vishkar site."</p><p>So their arrangement had yet to be approved. They had circled in limbo long enough already—and would continue to as long as they must work through this tedious omnic middleman, whom Sanjay tolerated for no reason Satya could see. All this, of course, was Sanjay's duty of worry to begin with. Sanjay was the one who talked real estate and finance. All evening Satya had not said a dozen words; between sips of water, she silently presented holo-dioramas of her work to the eyes of this lay-omnic, whose appraisal, in the scheme of this arrangement, mattered not a whit. Why, then, was she here?</p><p>She raised her hand to flag down their waiter; Maximilien caught her wrist and lowered it. "Perhaps I was unclear—I will see to your and Mr. Korpal's tab tonight, Ms. Vaswani. No need to worry." His gold-adorned fingers glittered when they steepled. "If you two have the leisure… please, stay a while. I would like for you to enjoy the night's entertainment. We do not often book a celebrity musician."</p><p>Smooth jazz piping through the speakers had scratched at Satya's ears all night. "I had not noticed that you booked any entertainers." She spoke a little louder than the murmur she meant to give.</p><p>Maximilien chuckled mirthlessly. Sanjay laughed with him, his smile golden, so practiced you would never take it for anything but genuine. Satya never cared to labor thus for social niceties. Then again, perhaps it was one of those things he didn't have to practice to perfect—natural to him in a way it had never been for her. "They keep the live entertainment on the lower floor," Sanjay explained. He scooted aside to allow her out of the booth. "You may return to your room if you'd rather, but… I'd be greatly privileged to have you join us tonight, Satya." Satya grimaced. To Maximilien she might say no. To Sanjay, she would be remiss to.</p><p>Maximilien led them across the floor to a stairwell blocked off by a hard-light force field and the obligate velvet rope. As he personally lifted the rope, the barrier fell as well. The tinny, leisurely jazz from above slowly ceded to a thunderous EDM bass that buzzed through Satya's feet into her calves with every step, punctuated by electronic whistles and gurgles scraping her ears so deep they hit the back of her teeth.</p><p>A strobe light at the far back of the basement flashed through the cloudy air, silhouetting bodies milling. The fog was of e-cigarette mist—the reek of every imaginable flavor thereof, cut through by the stench of spilled alcohol. Satya wanted to vomit. There was—something else, too—something organic. The suggestion of sweat, underpinned with something dark, salty and primal.</p><p>The crowd opened for them. A steel fist gripped Satya's stomach and twisted.</p><p>He—they had him—facedown, belly-down, arms trussed behind his back, legs spreader-barred apart and hanging off the edge of the marble tabletop. His naked skin raised and marked and open—the pristine white marble speckled with his blood. Between his legs, too—a cloudy, milky puddle—dripping onto the carpet. He was unmoving. He must be—quite inebriated, or on some drug. When Maximilien's metal palm clapped his round ass cheek he was still lucid enough to wince. "I requested his presence specifically for you, Mr. Korpal. However, I could not keep him from the other guests…"</p><p>Satya barely listened. The implements that had been taken to his body lay around him. Floggers and other instruments of leather. Perhaps a dozen white, rigid plastic rings, a fist's breadth in size—lined on either outer edge with hard-light projectors. Made to project any size or shape of phallus or orifice the user liked. The plastic was cheap and unmarked, but the projector in Satya's hand prosthesis hummed when they came into proximity. Undoubtedly they were Vishkar tech—a foul misuse of Vishkar tech. "Is this a joke?" Her prosthesis tightened so hard it might crack. "This is an <em> insult</em>—"</p><p>"Satya! Here." A white ring was pressed into her other hand—her weak hand.</p><p>"San…jay…?"</p><p>Sanjay had not let that smile falter from his features once. "The interface is very simple and intuitive. A talent like you should not have trouble with it." It crinkled the edges of his eyes. Like he was at seamless ease with all of this—</p><p>Her fingers trembled as they pinched the ring. She wanted—to crush it.</p><p>Satya flung the plastic ring down on the floor with a clatter. She wrung the fingers that had touched it.</p><p>"Satya?"</p><p>Covering her mouth, she croaked, "It is—filthy. I—please—do not—make me touch it."</p><p>Sanjay sucked his lower lip under his teeth. "Oh, Satya, I apologize. I would have liked to see your creativity, but I understand. Forgive me." He spoke airily, but the weight of the unspoken test she failed sat molten in Satya's stomach. With no compunctions, Sanjay took one of the several identical rings into his hands.</p><p>If the omnic passed some judgment on this exchange, it would not show on his shiny visage. His cold fingers gripped Satya's shoulders to back her into a seat. "You need not play in the performance to enjoy it, Ms. Vaswani. I only ask that you relax…" His low, synthesized voice thrummed in her ear, the same timbre as the beating bass. "If you are being entertained on my dime, the least courtesy you might show me is to enjoy the show."</p><p>Sanjay busied himself adjusting the ring, opening its aperture a couple of centimeters. He fumbled with it—graceless with hard-light projectors as Satya was not—before he summoned a simple cylindrical phallus, long and thick and blue, out of the projecting edge. He twisted it. Along the length raised photorealistic veins and a bulging glans. With some adjustment, the veins became razor-thin ridges, nearly jagged. Satya crossed her legs. Despite the filmy heat of the air, despite the sweat on her brow and in her palms, her whole body was cold.</p><p>Lúcio's back stiffened when Sanjay thumbed his ass cheeks apart, rocking the head of the hard-light cock into the cleft. Briskly he plunged it in. Lúcio's toes clenched, his arms strained their bindings, his head thrashed—the come streaking his dirty hole must be nowhere near enough to take out the sting.</p><p>Sanjay pursed his lips; all told, he looked outright bored. After a moment's dispassionate survey, he left Lúcio's ass alone and full. From this angle Satya saw—with grisly clarity—Lúcio clenching around the translucent light, spattered in blood and come. Sanjay circled to Lúcio's front, fists tightening in his hair to jerk his head up. He pawed loose the rag that had been gagging Lúcio's mouth. With such a fearsome edge to the corners of his gilded grin—a trick of the strobing lights, almost certainly—</p><p>Satya had never had cause to imagine she might see her coworker's erect cock. Least of all did she imagine she'd see it drag across Lúcio's damp cheek before he cupped Lúcio's chin, held his mouth open, and fucked into his throat.</p><p>Lúcio's whole body shook. His back twisted and ass clenched with every thrust. Sanjay got a good, tight grip on the sides of Lúcio's skull, murmured something about <em> teeth</em>, something Satya couldn't hear over the hammering music. Lúcio's throat throbbed, strangling on Sanjay's cock. It must have been a dreadful noise—Satya was spared this, too, by the sensory assault of music and strobe and wretched <em> smell</em>, making her clutch at her own arms—</p><p>In flashes of light she watched Lúcio's eyes—bright—wet—livid. Fixing, from their corners, on her—daring her to pity him.</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>